


Barely There (But Breathing)

by ThisUsernameTaken



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol, Drabble, Gen, No Plot/Plotless, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Relationship, if you want to think of it like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 20:15:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15493815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisUsernameTaken/pseuds/ThisUsernameTaken
Summary: "Jarvis, where's Tony?""Sir is currently down in his workshop.""When has he last slept?"A pause."Sir has been awake for 67 hours now."Normally, this wouldn't have been an issue. Normally, this was the norm. But Tony's not working, or inventing, or revolutionizing the future, Pepper, I don't need to sleep-". He's thinking.And after Afghanistan, that's usually never good.





	Barely There (But Breathing)

**Author's Note:**

> heyyy so I know I have that other fic going on but uh. have this.

_Click._

Tony! Oh, the things he could tell you about him, that man, Tony, Tony...Stank? No! There was Rhodey laughing at him in that stupid, infectious way of his, no, nonono.

Tony was, he was magnificent! Brilliant! Breathtaking! Brilliant! He was not one to be laughed at, made fun of! He was to be feared! Respected!

He gesticulated wildly with every word, manic. Honored! Not made fun of! He hardly heard the the sound of buttons being punched in, the whoosh of air.

_Clack._

Revered! Fawned over! And, uh - words! Good words! Complimenting, completely true, sexy words. Because he was a sexy sexy man. He thinks. Maybe? Oh, pah, he was magnificent. Why wouldn’t he be?

It’s not like he was, like he was repeating ~~empty~~ words or anything, because he was _drunk._ And it’s not like he was drunk because he was all those things and none at all. It’s not like he had nothing. ~~It’s not like he was nothing.~~

_“So you’re a man who has everything...and nothing.”_

It’s not like he couldn’t sleep without screaming himself awake.

Of course not. Not at _all._

_Closer._

He didn’t notice the presence of another human being until they, it, she. Pepper. Until she was right in front of him, tilting his face, plucking the bottle of vodka out of his limp grasp and a screwdriver from the other. How on earth did that get there, he wondered belatedly, mind fuzzy.

She heaved him out of his stool, half carrying him as they picked their way over the various debris on the ground spanning the worktables to the couch.

Stern yet soft eyes pinned him where he sat, flopped, more like, into the stained cushions. His head, no, everything, every last lousy inch of him, throbbed and ached from the exertion.

A scratchy wool blanket, worn but warm, pulled up to his neck. Gentle hands smoothing it down. Murmured words to JARVIS, the whir and hum of projects saving and closing. The dimming of the lights, the beeping of his robots wheeling to their places.

The faint press of lips to his hair, barely there but breathing. Then, the soft tap of heels, walking away. But he was already asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> yes that summary was deceptive but sh. thoughts? comments fuel my will to write


End file.
